Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
WYATT
Istare at the wedding ring on Whitney’s finger.
This was bad. Really, fucking bad.
Not just because this wasn’t supposed to be taken this far, but because I’m sure I’ll become so obsessed with the sight of Whitney with a ring on her finger that I’ll superglue it to her hand if she ever tries to take it off.
That ring is sacred. My mother loves that ring, and she wouldn’t have given it lightly. And it fits Whitney perfectly. No need to resize it. If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.
“We need to set a date for the wedding.” I clear my throat, tearing my attention from her ring finger.
I didn’t see it until this morning. Game night was short lived when Whitney and I kept kicking everyone’s asses.
No sore loser was left behind. If I thought I could be competitive, Whitney was a whole different ballgame. “How about this weekend?” I ask.
“Might as well get it over with, right?” She mumbles, twisting the ring around her finger.
“Right.” I agree before adding, “I have a trip out of town. So, after I get back.”
“Out of town for what?” She shoots me a suspicious glance.
“Business.” I reply shortly.
She tilts her head, eyeing me. “That’s ominous.”
I ignore her, not really in the mood to explain my plans to her.
I was, however, a little nervous about leaving her and Brinley here alone after all the bullshit with Andrew.
I might ask my mom to stay with them–if Whitney doesn’t try to rip my head off at the proposition.
I scootch back from the kitchen island and move around to make her another cup of coffee.
It’s nearly five in the morning, and Brinley is still asleep.
I offered to make breakfast, but she told me to “stop being nice,” and picked up a mug instead.
I also tried to explain that caffeine is not a substantial breakfast, and she nearly threw said mug at my head.
I pour her typical caramel flavored creamer in when she pipes up and asks, “Do I at least get a honeymoon after?”
I know she’s teasing me. Picking at me to see how far I’ll take it. I give her a teasing grin. “Maybe if you’re good.”
She rolls her eyes, but when she looks at my face, or rather my mouth, she cocks her head. “Did you get veneers?”
“What?” I laugh. She’s like a damn golden retriever. “No.”
Shooting me an irritated grin, she leans forward on the island. “I just don’t understand how your teeth are so stupidly perfect.”
“Was that a compliment, Winnie?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Before I can say anything else, she’s changing the topic back to wedding-related thoughts. “I’ll have to find a dress today or tomorrow, then.”
“Maybe some lingerie, too.” I add, causally.
I haven’t even thought about what I’ll be wearing.
It’s not a traditional sort of wedding. What the hell does one wear to the courthouse to marry someone that looks like Whitney?
My mom is going to be livid that she won’t get to throw some over-the-top wedding like she and Elise did for Blake. She’ll just have to get over it.
The pace at which her face lights up pink nearly sends me doubling over in laughter. She runs a tongue over her teeth, eyes narrowing on me. “In your dreams, pig.”
I smirk, sliding her coffee across the table and into her hands. “In my dreams, you’re not wearing any lingerie.”